


these faultlines in our guard

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Series: lexi’s season 8 fics [8]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 8x05 AU, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Cage Fights, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s08 e05 Prochnost, F/M, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied SmoaknHawke, Serious Injuries, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21574522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: Instead of forcing Mia into doing the initiation bell exercise, the Bratva use more extreme measures to try and extract information from Oliver, using his daughter. Mia is left trying to deal with the physical and emotional aftermath of being tortured in front of her father while he dials his overprotective instincts from 10 up to 11.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Series: lexi’s season 8 fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538746
Comments: 20
Kudos: 181





	these faultlines in our guard

**Author's Note:**

> okay, i'm going to be honest here - in 8x05, when mia and oliver were tied up in that basement and being interrogated by the bratva, and that man pulled a knife out... i was terrified for a minute that they were going to have mia be tortured in front of oliver.
> 
> of course, that didn't happen, thank god. but then that idea was stuck in my head so i just had to write it, because as you all know, im the biggest angst whore out there
> 
> PLEASE heed the trigger warnings in the tags before reading. This fic does describe the torture of a character using a knife.

Restrained to her chair by zip-ties, Mia eyes the Russian mobster in front of her warily as he interrogates her father, who is tied up on his own chair next to her, looking exhausted and more pissed off than she’s ever seen him. She’s disorientated and dizzy from what she suspects might be a mild concussion, since she was knocked unconscious rather violently earlier after being caught sneaking around to try and spy on her dad and the man who followed him out of the fighting cage to the back rooms.

Yes, she was trying to eavesdrop, but that was only because she was curious why exactly her dad agreed to fight in a cage match in the first place, and what sort of deal was going down. Her father has been trying to exclude her from everything since they arrived in Russia and it’s extremely annoying, especially when Mia knows that he knows she’s capable and can provide back-up. She hates being left in the dark.

She and her dad have bonded over the last week or so since she arrived in 2019 with her brother and teammate flash sort-of boyfriend, and Mia thought that he trusted her, which was why he invited her on the trip to Moscow. Everything that’s happened in the last few days, though, suggests otherwise. She would be lying if she claimed she isn’t hurt by him deliberately pushing her away.

The thing she’s most irritated and hurt by is the fact that she’s just found out about her father being an ex-member of the Bratva, and also discovering that he wasn’t ever planning on informing her of this. After finding out that her mom lied to her for her whole life about her brother and her vigilante activities, Mia felt as if she would struggle to trust her again. She was wounded by the fact that the one and only family member she knew growing up would lie to her like that, and although she’s long since forgiven her mother for that, since she understands why she kept those secrets, it still stings to think about.

Mia always believed that her father would tell her the full truth if he were around and raised her. Him keeping secrets from her now that they are actually spending time together, thanks to the weird timeshift that’s happened caused by the Monitor, feels like he’s reopened that wound.

Now she’s been kidnapped and she can’t seem to find a possible escape route. Her father can’t find a way to break free either, and she knows from what her mom told her that he’s a master of escape and evasion. Mia and her dad are screwed.

“Tell me what this is,” the Russian demands, holding the encrypted drive with the weapon plans in his grasp.

“No,” Oliver replies flatly, not a single ounce of fear on his face. Mia has to admit… she’s impressed by his resilience and bravery. He impressed her out in the ring as well with his hand-to-hand fighting abilities.

Mia can’t see the Russian’s expression hearing her dad’s response, as she’s facing the opposite direction, but she imagines that he’s getting angry. By craning her neck sideways, she can observe her dad and see the man out of the corner of her eye, but her vision is slightly blurred because of her concussion.

“I will only ask once more.”

Her dad remains silent.

She hears the mechanical click of a gun, and tenses so she doesn’t flinch. By the way Oliver’s eyes flicker over to her, filling with fear, she can tell that the gun isn’t being aimed at him - it’s being pointed at her. Tugging at her restraints, she swallows when she realizes that yeah, there’s no way she’s getting out of this. The barrel is being directed at the back of her head and she hasn’t got a chance of avoiding the bullet if he pulls the trigger.

“You have five seconds,” the Russian says.

Mia is shocked, because while her dad’s face remains impassive, obviously carefully schooled into an indifferent expression, his eyes portray just how _panicked_ he truly is by this.

“Five -”

“Don’t tell them anything,” she hisses.

Her dad turns away, conflicted. As the Russian continues to count down, Mia watches her father clenches her jaw and bows his head, an internal battle raging inside of his head. She would say that she’s reasonably confident that he won’t tell the Russian what he wants to know, but her father has been very overprotective of her throughout this entire trip. His chest jerks in a heavy, tired sigh and that’s when Mia knows… he’s going to give up that information. To protect her, to save her. 

When the Russian reaches two, her dad speaks up, gritting out, “They’re plans for a weapon Burov is building.”

Mia tilts her head back, frustrated. The Russian, triumphant and smug, lowers the gun and smirks at her father.

“Was that so hard?” he mocks. “Now we can move onto next phase.”

Once again, Mia can’t see what he’s doing - but one of the thugs leaning on the wall on the other side of the room, next to her, pulls out a serrated blade. So threatening them with a gun isn’t enough… they’re going to threaten to stab them as well now? Mia casts a glance over at her dad, who is staring at the man with the knife with a cold, murderous expression.

An involuntary shiver travels down the length of her spine in the face of Oliver’s fury. Now she can believe that he used to be a Bratva member… that enraged glint in his blue eyes, that have only been warm and kind and patient in the last week as the two of them have interacted, is terrifying. And Mia is _intrigued_ , because yes, while it’s scary, it’s very clearly not directed at her, and she’s never seen her father this angry before. In all honesty, she didn’t think she ever would.

Mia startles when the man wielding the knife steps towards her, eyeing him nervously. She jumps again when her dad thunders, “Don’t touch her!” and then, as the man doesn’t halt in his approach, snarls, “I told you everything that I know!” in a fierce, gravelly voice.

“We will see,” the mobster replies back flippantly.

He gives a short nod to his thug - and Mia flinches when she feets the sharp tip of the blade bite into her left shoulder. It digs in slowly and she squeezes her eyes shut against the pain as she feels it pierce through her sweater and into her skin, warm rivets of blood dripping down her back. The noise her father emits is animalistic in its outrage, and she can hear him yanking at his restraints, desperately trying to get to her.

“Stop!” he shouts. “Stop - don’t - I swear, I told you everything! Leave her alone!”

The blade is dragged down her shoulder and this time, Mia can’t hold back her cry of agony as it cuts through her flesh, burning with such intense pain that her head spins and body feels like it’s being torn apart. She refuses to scream - she knows her father has suffered through torture before, many times over, and she will not appear weak in front of him. Instead, she bits down on her lip and tightens her throat to stop the shriek bubbling up to the surface from escaping. The rich, metallic tang of iron fills her mouth and it makes her feel sick to the stomach, her nausea rising as a result of her pain and the blood on her tongue.

“Are you sure? My brother Krupin here thinks you have more to tell us,” the Russian jeers. “He can do much worse to your _сука_ than cut up her back, _Kapiushon_. If your tongue does not loosen, am certain sending her to spend a night in my _бордель_ will have you begging to speak by morning.”

Shaking uncontrollably, Mia’s head drops and she pants as the knife tip is removed from her left side. The man sliced down to her waist, ruining her clothes, and back is uncomfortably warm and _soaked_ with her own blood. Her head is swimming and she can’t find the strength to open her eyes, feeling like that all of her energy has drained out of her. Numb and freezing cold because of shock setting it, she yanks feebly at her zip-ties in the most pathetic attempt to escape, ashamed and embarrassed when the man cutting her laughs at her.

Mia thinks in utter relief that it might be over - but then to her horror, the thug grabs the collar of her sweater and begins cutting through it, tearing it off her and leaving her in a tattered thin t-shirt that is sticking to her skin because of her blood. The thug moves around to face her, a sadistic grin on his face, and this time presses the point of the blade to Mia’s right shoulder, twisting until it breaks skin and burrows into her flesh. She whimpers but once again bites her lip to muffle her howl of agony… there’s nothing she can do to hold back the torrent of tears she releases through.

“Stop hurting her!” Oliver roars. “She doesn’t know anything and I haven’t got any more information!”

“I don’t believe you,” the mobster replies.

That is… the wrong thing to say. “I swear to fucking god, I’m going to kill you!” her dad screams. “I’m going to kick the shit all of you and I’m going to _fucking enjoy it!_ ”

Her father explodes with a rush of enraged Russian, fighting at his restraints so much that his chair shifts and threatens to crumple beneath him. The mobster aims his gun at Oliver, disturbed by his behavior, but that doesn’t deter him. He continues talking threateningly in that language that Mia can’t understand, his voice growing louder and louder until it’s a bellow, echoing off the walls of the basement and causing her ears to ring. She cracks her eyes open to peer over at him and sees that he’s red in the face from his shouting.

The Russian scrutinizes him carefully for a moment and then raises his hand to motion the thug to step away. The blade slips out of Mia’s shoulder - she trembles and groans quietly - as the man backs away. But as soon as he’s gone, the leader raises his gun and points it at her again. Oliver shakes his head frantically, back to speaking Russian but this time it sounds more like pleading than threatening.

Mia’s mind is adrift in a vast ocean, her brain dissociating from her physical body, when she hears the gun click, the trigger being pulled. She doesn’t even flinch, but she prepares herself for another outburst of pain. There’s none to be found - the chamber was empty. Her dad sits back in his chair looking like his heart was just ripped out of his chest, the anguish in his expression stabbing at her like a red hot poker, worse than any wound the knife could have made. She’s let him down. She showed she was weak in front of him; she didn’t break under the torture or beg for them to stop, but she admitted to feeling pain by crying when her goal was to try and remain strong.

“I needed to make sure you weren’t lying about the drive,” the Russian says with a shrug.

“I wasn’t,” her father rasps, sounding defeated. “You… you didn’t need to torture her to make sure I was telling the truth.”

“No, I did not,” the man agrees. “But I enjoy watching you react as she was.”

At that point, he and his men leave, conversing in hushed Russian. The thug who tortured Mia approaches her again, making her cringe back she anticipates being hit, but he simply drapes her destroyed sweater over her left shoulder, which she can feel is still pulsing out blood; a pool of crimson is forming beneath her on the floor. Mia and her father are left alone in the freezing damp basement.

As soon as the door closes and locks, Oliver is asking desperately, “Mia? Are you okay?” When she doesn’t respond in the next five seconds, he only gets more agitated. “ _MIA!?_ ”

“Dad, please don’t yell,” she mutters. “I think I have a concussion.”

He sighs. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah. I didn’t pass out if that’s what you thought.”

“Are you alright?”

If he asks her that one more time... she’s going to snap. Because, no she’s obviously not.

“Mia!?”

“No, Dad, I’m not okay,” she growls. “I was just tortured, I’m in pain and I just - I don’t -” she cuts herself off with her own rapid, stuttered breathing as tears fill her eyes again, both of her wounds throbbing achingly. She turns away, not wanting her dad to see how truly upset she is. “I just want to get out of here.”

A tense beat passes. Mia doesn’t want to look at her father, afraid that he might be disappointed in her. “Well, hopefully I should be able to free myself in a minute,” Oliver says quietly. “I should have enough slack now, to... get my thumbs loose - ah!” He releases a sharp cry as a resounding crack triggers Mia to jolt, looking up in alarm.

“What the hell?” Did her dad just… _break his hand_ to escape his restraints?

“I can dislocate my thumbs,” he grunts, worming his way out of his restraints and staggering to his feet, clicking his thumbs back into place with a groan. “It's a useful technique if getting tied to a chair is gonna become a habit.” Bending down, he pulls a small penknife out of his shoe and begins slicing through her zip-ties.

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that,” she murmurs.

“Not a chance,” she hears her father hiss under his breath.

Once her hands are free, Mia attempts to stand - and immediately, her knees collapse beneath her, sending her tumbling to the ground. She’s weak from blood loss and her legs feel like jelly, unable to support her weight. Luckily, her father lunges and grabs her just before she fits the floor, cradling her to his chest before he gently sets her back into the chair.

“Hey, take it slow,” he advises, sweeping her hair back from her face.

Mia can’t help but instinctively flinch from his touch; her dad looks devastated. Shedding his sweater, he offers her it insistently, pressing it into her hands. Mia can see by his expression that he’s not going to let her not take it. Once she’s holding it, Oliver rips up her old torn sweater to make some bandages and tentatively wraps them around her wounds. They don’t exchange words - they don’t need to. The atmosphere is heavy enough, and Mia senses that if they did try and talk, they would just get into an argument. Her dad keeps glancing at her with pity and guilt and it just makes her feel ashamed. She doesn’t want his sympathy or for him to treat her like a fragile flower… but she was tortured in front of him, and now she’s afraid that he’s going to think she needs to be coddled.

With Oliver’s help, Mia pulls on his blue sweater, relieved at how warm it is when the room is so cold. She bats away his hovering hands, heat rising in her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she tells him, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Let’s run now, before they come back.”

“Are you sure you can walk?” he asks worriedly.

Mia flushes, embarrassed. “Yes,” she bites out. She tries to stand again, and fortunately this time her legs remain strong beneath her. Although her first step is wobbly, her next one is not, and soon she’s steadily walking alongside her father and breaking into a jog. 

They’re rescued soon after that by Laurel and Anatoly, who are both suitably taken back at the state of her. Mia and Oliver are rushed into Anatoly’s car, an old Bentley; her father sits up front with his Russian friend (probably another ex Bratva member, Mia thinks, which is how they know each other in the first place) while Laurel sits in the back with her, bundling her up in a blanket with more care than she thought that the woman would be capable of.

When they get back to the bar, William is waiting for them anxiously. Her brother is, of course, horrified, and for a brief moment, Mia wonders if he’s going to faint at the sight of all the dried blood on her back and right shoulder. He angrily asks their father what the hell happened while hurrying about to fetch a first aid kit and fresh, clean clothes for her, and then hovers protectively while Oliver silently cleans and stitches up her two wounds.

Mia is actually glad that her dad doesn’t speak while he focuses on suturing, watching him carefully for any subtle shifts in his expression, which is currently blank. Every couple of seconds, his eyes dart over her tattoos and the small scars she has littering her torso, from her cage fighting career and rough nights on the Star City streets back in 2040. 

Oliver can’t be judging her for the marks on her skin when she knows that he has a plethora of his own scars and tattoos, right? His voice exclaiming, “ _Well you are when I look at you!_ ” from earlier when Mia argued that she and William aren’t children, dances at the forefront of her mind. As protective over her as he’s become, her father probably hates her scars, seeing as they’re reminders of past inflicted injuries.

“These are going to scar,” her dad tells her dejectedly.

“Just two more for my collection,” she replies, aiming for a flippant tone.

“That’s not something to be proud of, Mia.”

She wilts at the strictness of his voice.

“How are you so nonchalant about the fact that you were just _tortured?_ ” William asks, aghast.

Shooting him a half-hearted glare, she responds, “Would you rather me be having a breakdown on the floor? I’ve had worse injuries, Will, you know this.”

Her father’s hands freeze. “You’ve been tortured before?”

“No,” she grits out. “My first year in Star City was just difficult.”

The sensation of the needle repeatedly piercing through her skin and the pressure Oliver applies to keep her wound closed as he stitches it shut causes Mia to fade away again, subconsciously trying to block out the pain. Anatoly slides a small white pill onto the bar in front of her along with a glass of whiskey, and he motions at her to take one of them. Mia goes for the alcohol rather than the codeine, ignoring the disapproving looks from her brother and father as she downs the glass and pushes it back to the Russian so he can top her up. She has a mild concussion, and the alcohol will make her head kill later, but right now she wants the numbing effects.

“You shouldn’t have told him what was on the drive,” Mia says in a low voice, aiming the comment at her dad, who swivels her chair around so he can begin suturing up her right shoulder.

“He would have killed you if I didn’t,” Oliver answers.

“Or we would have been able to escape without you giving up the information.”

His jaw tightens, a clear sign that he’s growing impatient with her. “He was aiming a gun at your head. He tortured you, Mia, even after I told him about the drive, because he was greedy and wanted to know more. What he was threatening to do to you -”

“Okay, can we please just save the family squabbling ‘til after we have the plans?” Laurel cuts in, annoyed.

“Oleg's bound to figure out how much they're worth,” William sighs. He’s sitting beside her so their elbows are brushing, and while Mia wants to cringe away from the contact, she’s grateful that she has her brother here supporting her. She can barely stand to be touched by her dad right now, even as he’s giving her medical attention, and she might be kicking and screaming at him to leave her alone if she didn’t have William.

Anatoly nods in agreement, once again refilling Mia’s whiskey glass. “Well, he's smart businessman. He will figure out way to sell it.”

“We need to figure out when and where the sale is happening, and then we go recover the drive,” Oliver murmurs.

He pulls back, finished with the stitches, and binds her shoulders in bandages. He keeps glancing at her like he’s scared she’s going to vanish before his eyes and Mia can’t stand it. She snatches up her new sweater from William and shrugs it on, not caring about how her father emits a soft sound of protest at her rapid movements.

“Let me guess. Me and William get to stay at the bar, right?” she scowls.

Wiping off his blood-stained hands with an antiseptic wipe, her dad responds calmly, “You're going home, both of you.”

Mia raises her eyebrows at him. Oh, so she and her brother aren’t just being put in time-out during family vacation… their father is actually going to ship them back off to Star City on their own because he doesn’t think they’re capable. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt as affronted. William’s expression informs her that he’s equally as insulted as her.

She shakes her head. “No.”

Her father glares at her. She glowers back, not swayed by his stern look. She’s concentrating so much on forcing her dad to back down from his position that she doesn’t really hear the short exchange that Laurel and Anatoly have, but the two of them hastily beat it out of the room, leaving the three of them alone.

Striding towards the two of them with his hands on his hips in a classic irritated dad pose, Oliver asks, “What do you mean, ‘No’?”

“I'm sorry, Dad, but we just saved you from being murdered by a bunch of gangsters. I'm on team Mia here,” William replies with a huff.

“Yeah, and Mia just got kidnapped by the Bratva!” he points at her.

“So did you!” she counters.

“I just had to watch a guy torture you for ten minutes, Mia!” her dad continues, his voice rising until it’s a yell. She can’t help but flinch. Instantly, he softens, the anger in his eyes fading into sadness. “I had to watch as Oleg had a man carve you up with a knife for his own enjoyment. He hurt you repeatedly, no matter how many times I begged him to stop, and there was nothing - _nothing_ \- I could do to protect you! I'm your father, alright? That is my primary job in the world!”

“We don't need that,” she insists.

“Well apparently _you_ do, because you got yourself caught and tied up back there so you could be used as a hostage against me!” Oliver shouts.

Mia recoils back, that comment slicing directly into her heart. Is that all she is to him? A liability? A burden to his mission? He said earlier, or implied, that he still views her as a child. If all he sees her as is a baby, then does that mean she’s a handicap to him in the field, rather than an asset, like she hoped she would be?

Oliver seems to realize that he’s messed up from whatever expression is on her face, because he looks and sounds gutted as he starts, “Mia, I’m - that’s not what I’m -”

“Whether you believe it or not, William and I can protect ourselves!” she interrupts fiercely, bolting to her feet to get into his face as a show of intimidation. Her dad appears astonished for a fleeting second at her boldness, which is exactly what Mia is going for. She ignores the tugging on her sleeve from her brother, who is whispering frantically for her to calm down. “In the future, _you_ aren’t there! You don’t raise us, you don’t protect us - Mom, William and I had to learn how to defend ourselves! And in the future, William and I are the ones that are saving the city!”

Her father pulls himself up to full height, towering over Mia and she swallows as he pushes her back into her seat. “This isn't the future! This is months after I was heartbroken right before I left that I couldn't get you -” he points accusingly at William, whose eyes are as round as plates, “- on the phone at your grandparents'.” Mia glances over at her brother, wincing at his remorseful expression. She leans back when Oliver turns on her, trembling with emotion as he continues, “So I walked into your room, to look at you one last time, and you looked back at me, _from your crib_.” He emphasizes those three words with his voice cracking. “And you… you cried as soon as I walked away and I swear to god I’ve never in my life felt as awful as I did at that moment, and when I had to force myself to walk away from your mom.”

“And because you made the choice to leave us, Mom had to raise me alone, and I had to spend my whole life thinking that being a hero was more important to you than being my father,” she retorts tearfully, slamming her fist down on the bar and causing her and William’s whiskey glass to rattle against the counter. “William never saw you again - I didn't have a chance to get to know my brother, to get to know you! Mom was _never_ the same. Our family was _destroyed_ by you leaving, Dad!”

Stricken with grief, Oliver rubs his hands over his face before taking a stumbling step back. “I'm sorry that it worked out that way,” he croaks. “And both of you can decide on your own how much - how much you want to hate me and how much blame you want to assign. But when Felicity and I sat down and made our decision to, first of all, allow you to go and live with your grandparents, and then second when we decided to move away from Star City to keep you off the grid, I made a promise to your mother to keep you both safe.” He gestures to them both in turn as he refers to them, and Mia exchanges a troubled look with her brother. Their dad only grows more passionate as he keeps talking. “And there there is no world, there is no _universe_ , there's no past, present, or future, where I break it! Call me overbearing, call me overprotective - I don’t care! While you are here in the present, I am responsible for your safety. I make decisions regarding your protection, and that is non-negotiable!”

Mia is shaken by her father’s statement. “We don’t need and we didn’t ask for your protection,” she says weakly.

“And I didn’t need or ask for you to be here, but look where we are!” Oliver spreads his arms out in exasperation.

And isn’t that the most confusing thing he’s said so far, because - “You’re the one who invited us to Russia with you!” William yells.

“I MEAN IN 2019, NOT IN RUSSIA!” Oliver bellows.

Frigid silence falls between the three of them. William looks like the earth has just been yanked out from under him, and Mia understands why, because she personally feels like she’s been sucker-punched in the gut. This pain is worse than when the knife was being twisted into her shoulder, because she can withstand physical pain… it’s when it’s emotional that she’s vulnerable and exposed. She can’t do this. Mia can’t cope with this. She lost her dad when she was a baby, only to get him back now and lose him all over again as he tells her and William that he wishes they weren’t here.

Angrily wiping away the tears brimming in her eyes, she slides off her chair and shoves past Oliver, heading for the bar’s backroom so she can have her impending breakdown alone. “Fine,” she whispers. “If you don’t want us here then maybe you should call Aunt Sara and get her to take us back to 2040 on the Waverider.”

“Mia, no.” Her father shakes his head, distraught. He tries to reach out for her, face contorting in dismay when she flinches. “I _do_ want you and your brother here, just because I didn’t ever expect this doesn’t mean I want you to go back - Mia, I promise, I want you here!”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” she mutters. Wrapping her arms around herself protectively, she stares down at her shoes, trying to ignore how her cut-up shoulders are throbbing. “You know… I was just getting used to having a dad.” She casts an exhausted look over at William, who is draining the rest of his whiskey like his life depends on it. “It’s okay. I don’t know about William, but I’ll go home. I was a burden on mom growing up, I’d hate to be a burden on you.” And with that, determined for it to be the last word, Mia heads into the backroom, grabbing a bottle of vodka as she goes.

“Mia. Mia!”

“Dad, let her go,” she hears William say heavily. “Hasn’t she been tortured enough today?”

“I’m not trying to hurt her! All I want to do if protect her and make sure she’s safe. I can never seem to get anything right with her.”

William sighs. “Stop treating her like the baby you left behind with Mom, and maybe you will.”

Once Mia is alone in the bar’s backroom, she downs a good couple of swigs of the vodka to take the edge off her pain and then settles into a throwing knife practice session, shredding a door to pieces as she gets lost in her own thoughts. She’s right-handed and that shoulder isn’t as badly injured as her left, so she reckons it’ll be okay as long as she doesn’t tear her sutures. Mia knows deep down that her father was just lashing out at her and William due to fear and guilt, and that he in no way means he doesn’t want the two of them here. He loves with his whole heart and forever when he does love somebody, and Mia knows that he adores her and her brother.

After seeing her being tortured in front of him, he’s desperate to try and keep the two of them out of harm’s way so that Mia isn’t injured further. He’s attempting to protect them in a very Oliver Queen way, as her mother would say, by pushing them away. And Mia knows that she was harsh in her responses during that argument, because she was afraid too. She wants nothing more to spend time with her dad; of course she doesn’t want to go back to Star City without him. But her father is a stubborn man, perhaps even more stubborn than her, and it would be fruitless to quarrel more with him.

Halfway through her knife throwing, her left shoulder with the wound stretching down the length of her back starts seriously hurting, so she takes a break, sitting cross-legged on the floor and massaging her temples. The alcohol is causing her head to pound because of her concussion. She needs a distraction.

Pulling out her cell phone, Mia thumbs down the screen until she reaches Connor’s contact, tapping on it and opening up a message thread.

 **TO Connor:** _How’s your mom?_

 **FROM Connor:** _Good! It’s weird seeing her so young. How’s Russia with your dad and William?_

She has to lie.

 **TO Connor:** _Cold but fine._

Connor’s response is immediate.

 **FROM Connor:** _Which means not fine at all, right? What happened? Wanna talk about it? x_

Goddammit. Mia drops her phone into her lap so she can use the back of her hand to wipe away her tears. Stupid Connor being so nice and lovely to her, willing to listen to her complain about anything and everything. He and William are the only people who truly understand her and what she’s going through right now, maybe not exactly but enough to empathize.

 **TO Connor:** _Thank you, but I’m okay x Sparring match when I get back? We can talk then xx_

 **FROM Connor:** _Sounds great! Totally down. Yes, let’s talk then. You know I’m here for you if you need me xxx_

Tucking her cell phone away, Mia heaves herself to her feet, feeling significantly lighter than before, and gets back to throwing. Laurel comes to see her at one point to give her a pep talk (she can deny it all she wants, but that’s what it is) and convinces her that she doesn’t need to live up to her father, she just needs to live up to herself. While she does want to carry on her father’s legacy, it’s important that Mia believes in herself and remains strong in the face of adversity, and she realizes that now.

Determined to not allow her dad to ship her and William back to Star City, she storms back into the bar to tell him - but doesn’t need to argue that she needs to stay, because Oliver wants her to. He and Anatoly have a plan for recovering the drive, and she and her brother are part of it. William will be helping them get into the _кровавая баня_ , posing as a shady businessman. Her brother is adorably excited at the prospect, admiring the suit that Anatoly had pressed for him.

Then her father asks her if she feels fit enough to fight.

“Why?” Mia asks, confused.

Oliver motions between them. “You and I are going into the ring together as a team. But only if you think you’re up to it with your shoulders in the state they are. And that’s your decision to make, not mine. We’ll wrap your torso up tight and hit you with some lidocaine so it doesn’t bother you during the fight.”

She stares at him in delighted disbelief. Her dad wants her as a cage match partner. And he’s trusting her to know her own physical limits and allowing her to make decisions for herself. “Really?”

He nods. “You in?”

She breaks out into a genuine grin. “Yeah, why the hell not?”

Their night in the fight club goes _spectacularly_. Mia and her dad kick the asses of six guys twice Oliver’s size and three times Mia’s within five minutes. She does get slammed up against the cage wall several times and her stitches will definitely need to be re-done, but she has an amazing time beating the absolute shit out of the mob thugs. Although her father gets distracted several times because of his concern for her, getting hit in the face when he turns to check on her, he decimates four of the six guys, leaving the last two for Mia to take down and looking proud of her as she does so.

One of the men is the guy who tortured Mia under Oleg’s orders in the basement; her dad takes immense pleasure in stealing the knife that gets slipped into the ring to the thug and stabbing him in both of his shoulders before pushing him over to Mia, who punches his lights out gleefully. 

They return to the bar victorious, the drive having been recovered by Laurel and Anatoly during their cage match - and William, who entered Oliver and Mia into the fight, comes away from the club half a million Rubles richer. He kindly donates the money to Anatoly’s clean business efforts, much to the Russian’s joy.

Oliver is finishing up cleaning and re-suturing Mia’s left shoulder as Anatoly pours vodka shots for them along the length of the bar. Mia is quick to swipe up her own and throw it back, smirking as she points at it to be refilled.

Anatoly belts out a laugh. “Congratulations, _племянница_. Now you my favorite American!”

“ _Племянница_?” Mia repeats with a smile.

“He’s instated himself as your uncle,” Oliver chuckles. “Hey, don't get too excited. He has a lot of favorite Americans.”

He proposes a toast to her and William, thanking them for their assistance, saying that they couldn’t have succeeded on this mission without them. William visually preens at the praise and Mia just smiles down at her shot glass, secretly pleased at how everything turned out. Her shoulders are twinging sure, and she might have nightmares about being tortured in the near future, but she finally got to properly prove herself to her dad and show him that she’s a real fighter. She was able to prove to him that she’s not weak.

“Um, would you mind giving me a minute with these two, please?” Oliver requests to Anatoly and Laurel.

The two of them agree and depart. Mia nicks the vodka bottle with a teasing grin before the Russian can snatch it up to take with him, examining the label before placing it on the counter beside her and turning her attention to her dad, who has moved around to the other side of the bar.

“I have come to the realization that I was a little harsh with the two of you earlier, and I would like to apologize for that,” Oliver says softly. “I am your father, and I want to do whatever I possibly can to protect you, but I raised my voice and said some things that I shouldn’t have - or at least, not in the manner I did. I unintentionally implied that I didn’t want you here when in all honesty, the two of you being here is giving me hope and a lot more optimism than I thought I could convey, since I left Felicity in Bloomfield. I upset you both, and I’m very sorry.”

Mia and William exchange a glance. “It’s okay,” her brother replies. “We forgive you.”

Oliver specifically looks at Mia, and she shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny of his gaze. “I want you to know that I trust you and I believe in your skills and capabilities. I’m honored to have fighting at my side. Nyssa trained you extremely well and you’re shaping up to be a hero in your own right. It’s just hard for me to see you in the field, and especially hard to see you being hurt in front of me, when in my mind you’re still a three-month-old baby. I don’t see you as a baby, obviously, but you’re… you’re my kid. Seeing you being tortured was… one of the worst experiences of my life. I felt like a failure of a parent. In trying to protect you from further harm, I ended up inadvertently hurting you more. I’m sorry for that.”

A lump in her throat, Mia manages to choke out, “Thank you,” because that apology means more to her than she can possibly express. “I’m sorry too.”

He frowns. “What for?”

“Back when that man was torturing me, I… I was trying not to make any noise because I could see how mad and alarmed you were getting, but I couldn’t hold them all in,” she lowers her gaze, face burning with shame. “I was trying to be strong for you but I couldn’t do it. I was too weak.”

“Mia.” Her dad is staring at her seriously. “You are one of the strongest people I know. Even I wouldn’t have been able to stay silent during that kind of torture; that you were able to withstand it at all proves how courageous and tough you are. Yes, I was scared for you, but I was also incredibly proud of how brave you were being. And I know your mom would be proud too, if she were here, because you’re just as strong as her, which makes sense because you’re so like her in so many ways. There is no way in hell that you’re weak.” When she doesn’t respond, simply too overcome with emotion to find words, he reaches over and squeezes her hand gently. “Okay?”

She bobs her head in a small, shy nod. “Okay.”

Their father sighs in apparent relief. “I know that I haven't really spoken to the two of you about my time in Russia. And that is because there were some things that I did here that I'm not very proud of,” he admits. “As I'm coming to grips with the fact that the two of you are grown up, I'm realizing that shielding you from the bad isn't going to do our relationships any good. From this point forward, whatever you want to know, whatever you might want to ask me is fair game, okay?”

Mia and William jump at the opportunity. Mia is aware of various stories about her dad that her mom told her as she was growing up, but she has the feeling that she would have left the more troublesome details out. Hearing certain stories first hand is too good a chance to miss out on. The two of them quiz him about Lian Yu, Hong Kong, Russia and his early years back when he was operating as a vigilante in Star(ling) City for the rest of the night, agreeing that sleep can wait until the fourteen-hour flight home tomorrow morning.

She sort of regrets pulling the all-nighter when the time comes for them to depart to catch their flight, however, when she can barely keep her eyes open as they say goodbye to Anatoly. Her Russian honorary uncle gives her a giant hug and sneaks a bottle of premium vodka into her bag for her to take home with a wink.

Mia must fall asleep in the car during the journey to the airport because the next thing she knows, she’s stirring and groggily peering down at her surroundings, bewildered by how she could possibly be moving without using her own legs. Then she realizes, in her half-conscious state, that she’s being carried bridal style by her father. Oliver is cradling her carefully to his chest, being cautious not to jostle any of her wounds, and she’s wrapped in a super warm blanket and her brother is brushing her hair away from her face tenderly… and Mia slips back to sleep. But just before that, she feels her dad pressing his lips to her forehead in a sweet, fond kiss, gently lifting her higher into his arms so she can rest her head on his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart, go back to sleep,” her dad murmurs.

And Mia does, knowing that she’s safe with her father and brother watching over her. Feeling, for the first time in a long time, that the fissure in her soul that was created years and years ago by learning that daddy was never coming home, is finally beginning to heal. Because although her mom isn’t here, and she’s in a different time, and everything concerning the future is unclear… she feels like she’s found Home.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, i would really appreciate comments and kudos!! xx
> 
> twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13


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